


The Fairy Queen's Daughter

by EndoratheWitch



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Busking, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fairies, Fairy Tales, Fairy World, Goblins, Seelie and Unseelie courts, Street Musicians, goblin hunter, human world - Freeform, human/fairy worlds combine, lost fairy princess, multi book influences, red caps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 17:52:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15823962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoratheWitch/pseuds/EndoratheWitch
Summary: Lost princesses, buskers and magic





	The Fairy Queen's Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of a test chapter just to see if anyone would be interested in reading a story like this. :)

It was a lovely fall afternoon. The air was cool, but not so cool yet that one had to have a jacket. There was that crisp taste of fallen leaves in the air and a soft breeze that spoke of the transition of summer into autumn. Marianne stood on the corner, dressed in a dark plum colored pleated skirt, a long sleeved black blouse, with matching black hose and a pair of dark purple heeled booties. She was holding her purse by the shoulder strap, her attention drawn to the sound of music. The cooling breeze blew a few leaves along the sidewalk as she leaned against the building watching the street musician play with his guitar on his lap as he leaned forward and sang into the mike, his lips moving over the words and caressing them like a lover. He had short black hair and his eyes were blue, the brightest blue she had ever seen. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans with the knees gone, a black vest without a shirt, which showed off the massive sleeve work he had on both his arms, a complicated combination of dragonflies and vines that covered both arms from shoulder to wrist and wrapped around to hint that there was an equally intricate tattoo on his back. He wore a few necklaces around his throat...several of them had dragonfly pendants on them of varying colors as well as several bracelets wrapped around his wrists. He wore a pair of pointed toe black boots, and a bottle of beer sat near one of his feet as he tapped his foot to the music. He had his guitar case open beside the folding chair where he sat and sang. He strummed his long fingers over the strings of the guitar; the nails of his right hand were longer than the left so that he never required picks, using his own nails instead. His cigarette was held in the upper strings while he played, creating a slow lazy drift of smoke around him as he sang. 

“I can't see the meaning of this life I'm leading 

I try to forget you as you forgot me 

This time there is nothing left for you to take 

This is goodbye 

Summer is miles and miles away 

And no one would ask me to stay 

And I should contemplate this change 

To ease the pain 

And I should step out of the rain 

Turn away…” 

Marianne blushed watching him from her corner. She had heard him speak in the past, whenever he would announce the title of the song he was going to perform. He was Scottish, his accent heavy when he spoke, but nearly gone when he sang. She could only hear his dialect on certain words when he sang, but his accent made her shiver when she caught it. He had been playing in the same place on the cobbled street for well over a month now. She came down here every chance she got to hear him. He had his eyes closed at the moment as he sang an Opeth song, putting so much feeling into the words that it brought tears to her eyes. 

“Close to ending it all, I am drifting through the stages 

Of the rapture born within this loss 

Thoughts of death inside 

Tear me apart from the core of my soul…” 

Marianne sighed. She knew she was probably ridiculous, acting like a lovesick teenager, but she couldn’t help it! The man was dreamy and his voice, she would swear no human sounded like that! She shifted her feet, glancing down at her heels when her swooning was disturbed by a higher pitched voice with a clear southern twang. 

“Hey buttercup, there ya are! I was looking all over for you.” 

Marianne rolled her eyes as she turned and saw her ex-boyfriend, dressed like he had just stepped off the pages of an Abercrombie and Fitch ad as he sauntered down the sidewalk toward her. They had broken up almost two months ago after Roland had told her he thought he should be able to see other people...but he wanted her to remain exclusively his. Marianne should be the good little girlfriend and wait for him while he sowed his oats. She had hit him over the head with her purse and shoved him out of her apartment so fast she was surprised Roland’s head hadn’t done a one eighty. Ever since then, the dolt had been trying to win her back. Marianne was sure that he didn’t really want her, he just didn’t like the idea of her being with anyone else. Not that there was anyone else at the moment… 

“Roland what do you want?” Marianne sighed turning away from him to focus on the street musician. She really didn’t have the energy to deal with him today. It had been a long day at work and she had just wanted to stand here and listen to Bog sing. It still tickled her to know his name. She had caught it just last week when she had arrived to hear him at the moment that he had said his name for the crowd. She had been listening to him for weeks without ever knowing his name, but now she had a name to add to the face that she dreamed about almost every night. 

“I thought I might take you out to dinner.” Roland grinned putting his arm over her head against the brick wall of the building and leaned forward into her space, too close for comfort. 

Marianne narrowed her eyes, a dangerous glint flashed across her warm brown eyes, a glint that Roland never could figure out meant that his life (or testicles) were in danger. 

“Roland, how many times do I have to tell you? I’m not interested?” Marianne asked in a dangerous voice. 

Roland smiled that easy smile of his, oozing Southern charm like an oil spill. “Until you say yes again. I know you still want me darling, just stop fighting it.” Roland leaned closer still. “We were good together sweetheart, we can be good together again.” 

Roland didn’t see it in time, the further narrowing of Marianne’s eyes, the curl of her lip until her knee planted itself in his crotch. Roland didn’t make a sound, all the air just whooshed from his lungs and he doubled over, taking several steps back until he fell to his knees, his face red, hands too late covering his crotch. 

“When I say no Roland, it means no,” Marianne gritted out. 

A small group of four women who had been strolling by caught the sight of Marianne kneeing Roland and her words. They had no idea what was going on, but they applauded regardless. Marianne smiled at the group and walked away from Roland. She hated to leave since she usually liked to stay until the end of Bog’s set, but she needed to be away from Roland, so she walked past the musician and headed off down the sidewalk to the parking lot where her car sat. 

* 

Bog had just started into his next song. Today he was doing covers of all the Opeth songs from their Damnation album, a favorite of his and one of the few human bands that he truly liked. He had just started into the song “Hope Leaves” when he saw the young woman who came to listen to him every day walk by. He frowned in disappointment. She usually remained to the end of his performances, but today she was walking by at a clipped pace. He watched her drift by with regret, his heart feeling heavy at her departure. He had heard some applause behind him, but hadn’t been able to turn to see what was happening, though he somehow knew it had to do with her… Bog leaned into the microphone, sending his voice and the words after the spunky brunette. 

“There is a wound that's always bleeding 

There is a road I'm always walking 

And I know you'll never return to this place…” 

She turned around to glance in his direction, their eyes meeting for an instant before she turned away and hurried around the corner and disappeared from his sight. Bog frowned, but continued to sing. He knew he shouldn’t be so enamored with a mortal woman like that, but he couldn't seem to help himself. His thoughts were constantly drawn to the petite young mortal--there was simply something about her...he was sure she had to have fey blood in her, however diluted...perhaps a changeling? Maybe one of her parents was a runaway fey like the princess he was supposed to be tracking? There was something about the woman’s brown eyes. They reminded him of the deep brown of an autumn forest, mixed with darkness, the delicate sharpness of her face, the slight point of her ears and the tilt of her eyes all spoke to something not completely human...which all could be completely human he thought with a sigh, but he didn’t think so. He just had no way to know unless he spoke to her and tasted the air around her to see if magic clung to her, but there was little chance of that happening. He was a simple street musician...and undercover agent for the crown looking for the lost daughter of the current king and queen. 

Bog brought his attention back to the song and his guitar. He was supposed to be working here, looking for the princess and not mooning over some mortal woman, no matter how beautiful. He had seen few human women he thought were attractive; the woman who came to listen to his music, that one actress he had seen in a movie recently, a few others. Mortal women were just not his thing, he had decided, except for maybe those few, and especially the brown haired woman who he was afraid he would not see again. 

Bog frowned as he sang. He really hadn’t been doing his job at all. He had followed the kidnapped princess’s trail to this city, to this area and he had stopped. Part of it was because the trail told him that she was here, somewhere. He frequented the areas where the trail had taken him, propelled by one of the magical amulets he wore around his neck, a tiny purple dragonfly...the amulet warmed against his skin whenever he was someplace that princess had been, but that was his only clue… 

He had narrowed it down to a handful of places, areas where the amulet told him she frequented, this place, where he played, being one of the places the princess frequented quite often, but after that, he had no idea how to narrow down who she was. She could be anybody! 

She was only a babe when she had been taken. She would now be an adult, depending on who took her, she could be living under an illusion. She might not know who she was and could be living under the influence of a heavy glamor that she didn’t even realize was around her, or she could not want to come back after all. Perhaps she knew who she was, but had been gone so long she didn’t want to return...all Bog had to go on was the amulet that was attuned to the little princess’s magic and the knowledge that she was here, somewhere… 

* 

The two red caps pulled their human disguises tighter around them. This close to the hunter for the king and queen, neither of them wanted to take a chance that he would see through their glamour if they weren’t tightly enough woven over their true forms. The glamor of one red cap made him look like a large, heavy set man with bad teeth, whereas the other resembled a skinny human woman with bleached blonde hair and too much makeup. The two chuckled to themselves pleased with having finally run down the king and queen’s tracker all by themselves. The half-blood had not detected them and they both snickered as they watched him playing for the humans from where he sat across the square. 

The large male snickered. “Look at that half blood, he is so stupid.” 

The female elbowed her companion. “Watch yerself Hem, ya don’t want to draw his attention. He may be half blooded, but he is still a killer and a skilled hunter or else the fairy king would not have sent him.” 

“That hurt Yew.” Hem pouted. “He ain’t so good that he knows we’re here and he ain’t found the princess yet either.” 

Yew hissed. “The only reason he don’t know is because no one is supposed to know he was sent to find the missing wee princess. If we gets too close he will know, he will taste us on the air.” 

Hem frowned and nodded. “Oh.” 

“Oh is right you lummock.” She smacked him on the back of the head. “We need to be careful and find the princess first and bring her back to Bittersweet, whole and untainted. Now come on, there is nothing here but to listen to that half-blood’s screeching.” 

Yew motioned at her companion, the two of them blending into the crowd. They would wait until nightfall...perhaps do some hunting...the human neighborhood was full of pets; cats, dogs...nearly always left unattended. Maybe if they were very lucky someone would lose sight of their child... 

* 

The next day was Saturday. 

Marianne woke up with a wide smile. Today Bog would be playing at the park down by the river. He always played on the weekends in the park. She had no plans today, no house cleaning, no laundry to do, she had specially put today aside to take herself out to lunch, do some shopping...for herself...and to spend several hours in the park listening to Bog sing. 

She dressed casually, but nice, wearing a pair of comfortable jeans with holes in the knees, a light purple sweater that came to the top of her waist, allowing hints of her stomach to show when she moved, and a pair of hiking boots. She grabbed her purse after breakfast and set out, shopping first. 

* 

It was early afternoon when she arrived at the park, her lunch in a bag in her hand. She could hear Bog’s voice on the light breeze drifting toward her like a summons. She hurried while trying to look like she was on a casual stroll and would just happen to see the guitarist, instead of on a quest to find him when she saw him. 

He was sitting under the golden leaves of a huge oak tree. Today he was dressed in another pair of jeans with the knees torn out, but this time he had on a loose white shirt unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest where the multiple necklaces he wore rested against his hairless chest, with a black vest over the top, open, and the same black boots he always wore. He was just taking a drag on his cigarette, letting the smoke drift out from between his lips as he played a few cords on his guitar. He grinned into the microphone he had set up and in his thickly accented voice Marianne heard him announce the name of the song he was about the play, something called Three Irish Reels. He had just slipped his cigarette into the upper strings and began to play; his fingers moved swiftly over the guitar, the music immediately calling an audience to him, when Marianne found a park bench nearby. 

She sat down, placed her lunch on the table. Inside the bag she had two lunches, one for herself, but also one she had bought for him. She had decided while shopping today that she was going to introduce herself, throw a twenty into his guitar case and give him the lunch she had bought for him. Except, now that she was here, she was losing her nerve. 

Marianne glanced over to Bog. He had his eyes closed, his fingers moved over the guitar like magic. He was tapping his foot in time to his music when she saw something strange… 

Marianne tilted her head to the side like a cat, her eyes narrowing as she watched something behind him, a shimmer...


End file.
